Upon the Mid-lands now th'industrious Muse doth fall,
That Shire which we the Heart of England well may call,
As she herself extends (the midst which is Deweed)
betwixt St. Michael's Mount and Barwick-bordering Tweed,
Brave Warwick that abroad so long advanc'd her Bear,
By her illustrious Earls renowned every where,
Above her neighbouring Shires which always bore her Head.

Also in the Beginning of his Poly-Olbion he thus writes;

Of Albions glorious Isle the wonders whilst I write,
The sundry varying Soyls, the Pleasures infinite,
Where heat kills not the cold, nor cold expells the heat,
The calms too mildly small, nor winds too roughly great.
Nor night doth hinder day, nor day the night doth wrong;
The summer not too short, the winter not too long:
What help shall I invoke to aid my Muse the while? &c.

However, in the esteem of the more curious of these times, his Works seem to be antiquated, especially this of his Poly-Olbion because of the old-fashion'd kind of Verse thereof, which seems somewhat to diminish that respect which was formerly paid to the Subject, although indeed both pleasant and elaborate, wherein he took a great deal both of study and pains; and thereupon thought worthy to be commented upon by that once walking Library of our Nation, Mr. John Selden: His Barons Wars are done to the Life, equal to any of that Subject. His Englands Heroical Epistles generally liked and received, entituling him unto the appellation of the English Ovid. His Legends of Robert Duke of Normandy. Matilda, Pierce Gaveston, and Thomas Cromwel, all of them done to the Life. His Idea expresses much Fancy and Poetry. And to such as love that Poetry, that of Nymphs and Shepherds, his Nymphals, and other things of that nature, cannot be unpleasant.

To conclude, He was a Poet of a pious temper, his Conscience having always the command of his Fancy; very temperate in his Life, flow of speech, and inoffensive in company. He changed his Lawrel for a Crown of Glory, Anno 1631. and was buried in Westminster-Abbey, near the South-door, by those two eminent Poets, Geoffry Chaucer and Edmond Spencer, with this Epitaph made (as it is said) by Mr. Benjamin Johnson.

Do, pious Marble, let thy Readers know
What they, and what their Children ow
To Drayton's Name, whose sacred Dust
We recommend unto thy Trust
Protect his Memory, and preserve his Story,
Remain a lasting Monument of his Glory:
And when thy Ruines shall disclaim
To be the Treasurer of his Name,
His Name that cannot fade shall be
An everlasting Monument to thee.

JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

Joshua Sylvester, a very eminent Translator of his time, especially of the Divine Du Bartus, whose six days work of Creation, gain'd him an immortal Fame, having had many great Admirers even to these days, being usher'd into the world by the chiefest Wits of that Age; amongst others, the most accomplisht Mr. Benjamin Johnson thus wrote of him.

If to admire, were to commend my Praise
might then both thee, thy work and merit raise;
But, as it is (the Child of Ignorance
And utter stranger to all Ayr of France)
How can I speak of thy great pains, but err;
Since they can only judge that can confer?
Behold! the reverend shade of Bartus stands
Before my thought and (in thy right) commands
That to the world I publish, for him, this:
Bartus doth with thy English now were his,
So well in that are his Inventions wrought,
As his will now be the Translation thought,
Thine the Original; and France shall boast
No more those Maiden-Glories she hath lost.

He hath also translated several other Works of Du Bartus; namely, Eden, the Deceipt, the Furies, the Handicrafts, the Ark, Babylon, the Colonies, the Columns, the Fathers, Jonas, Urania, Triumph of Faith, Miracle of Peace, the Vocation, the Fathers, the Daw, the Captains, the Trophies, the Magnificence, &c. Also a Paradox of Odes de la Nove, Baron of Teligni, with the Quadrains of Pibeac; all which Translations were generally well received: but for his own Works which were bound up with them, they received not so general an approbation; as you may perceive by these Verses;

We know thou dost well
As a Translator,
But where things require
A Genius and a Fire,
Not kindled before by others pains,
As often thou hast wanted Brains.

Mr. SAMUEL DANIEL.

Mr. Daniel was born nigh to the Town of Taunton in Somersetshire; his Father was a Master of Musick, and his harmonious Mind (saith Dr. Fuller) made an impression in his Son's Genius, who proved to be one of the Darlings of the Muses, a most excellent Poet, whose Wings of Fancy displayed the Flags of highest Invention: Carrying in his Christian and Sirname the Names of two holy Prophets; which, as they were Monitors to him, for avoyding Scurrility, so he qualified his Raptures to such a strain, as therein he abhorred all Debauchery and Prophaneness.

Nor was he only one of the inspired Train of Phoebus, but also a most judicious Historian, witness his Lives of our English Kings since the Conquest, until King Edward the Third, wherein he hath the happiness to reconcile brevity with clearness, qualities of great distance in other Authors; and had he continued to these times, no doubt it had been a Work incomparable: Of which his Undertaking, Dr. Heylin in the Preface to his Cosmography, gives this Character, speaking of the chiefest Historians of this Nation; And to end the Bed-roll (says he) half the Story of this Realm done by Mr. Daniel, of which I believe that which himself saith of it in his Epistle to the Reader, that there was never brought together more of the Main. Which Work is since commendably continued (but not with equal quickness and judgment,) by Mr. Truffel.

As for his Poems so universally received, the first in esteem is, that Heroical one of the Civil Wars between the two Houses of York and Lancaster; of which the elaborate Mr. Speed, in his Reign of Richard the Second, thus writes: The Seeds (saith he) of those fearful Calamities, a flourishing Writer of our Age (speaking of Mr. Daniel) willing nearly to have imitated Lucan, as he is indeed called our English Lucan, doth not unfortunately express, tho' he might rather have said he wept them, than sung them; but indeed so to sing them, is to weep them.

I sing the Civil Wars, tumultuous Broils
And bloody Factions of a mighty Land,
Whose people haughty, proud with foreign spoyls;
Upon their selves turn back their conquering hand
While Kin their Kin, Brother the Brother foils,
Like Ensigns, all against like Ensigns stand:
Bows against Bows, a Crown against a Crown,
While all pretending right, all right throw down

Take one Taste more of his Poetry, in his sixth Book of that Heroical Poem, speaking of the Miseries of Civil War.

So wretched is this execrable War,
This civil Sword, wherein though all we see
be foul, and all things miserable are,
Yet most of all is even the Victory;
Which is, not only the extream Ruiner
of others, but her own Calamity;
Where who obtains, cannot what he would do:
Their power hath part that holp him thereunto.

Next, take notice of his Musophilus, or general Defence of Learning, Dedicated to Sir Fulk Greuil; his Letter of Octovia to Marcus Antonius, his Complaint of Rosamond his Panegyrick, Delia, &c. Besides his Dramatick Pieces; as his Tragedy of Philotus and Cleopatra; Hymenis Triumph, and the Queens Arcadia, a Pastoral; being all of them of such worth, that they were well accepted by the choicest Judgments of those Times, and do yet remain in good esteem, as by their often Impressions may appear.

This our Poet's deserts preferr'd him to be a Servant in ordinary to Queen Anne, the most illustrious wife of King James I. who allowed him a fair Salary, such as enabled him to keep a handsom Gardenhouse in Old-street nigh London, where he would commonly lie obscure sometimes two Months together, the better to enjoy that great Felicity he aimed at, by enjoying the company of the Muses, and then would appear in publick, to recreate himself, and converse with his Friends; of whom the most endeared were the Learned Doctor Cowel, and Judicious Mr. Cambden.

And now being weary of the Troubles of the City and Court, he retired into the Country, and turn'd Husbandman, Renting a Farm or Grange in Wiltshire nigh the Devizes, not so much, as it is thought, for the hope of gains, as to enjoy the retiredness of a Country Life: How he thrived upon it, I cannot inform my self, much less my Readers, although no question pleasing himself therein, he attained to that Riches he sought for, viz. Quiet and Contentedness; which whoso enjoys, reapeth benefit of his labours. He left no Issue behind him but those of his Brain, though living a good space of time with Justina his wife: For his Estate, he had neither a Bank of Wealth, nor Lank of Want; but living in a competent contented condition, and died (as it is conjectured) about the latter end of King James I.


GEORGE CHAPMAN.

George Chapman was one in his time much famed for the Fluency of his Muse; gaining a great repute for his Translation of Homer and Hesiod, which in those times passed as Works done without compare; and indeed considering he was one of the first who brake the Ice in the Translation of such learned Authors, reading the highest conception of their Raptures into a neat polite English, as gave the true meaning of what they intended, and rendred it a style acceptable to the Reader; considering, I say, what Age he lived in, it was very well worthy praise; though since the Translation of Homer is very far out-done by Mr. Ogilby. He also continued that excellent Poem of Hero and Leander, begun by Christopher Marlow, and added very much to the Stage in those times by his Dramatick Writings; as his Blind Beggar of Alexandria, All Fools, the Gentleman Usher, Humorous Days Mirth, May-Day, Mounsieur D'Olive, Eastward ho, Two wise men, and all the rest Fools, Widows Tears, Comedies; Bussy D' Amboys, Byron's Tragedy, Bussy D'Amboys Revenge, Cæsar and Pompey, Revenge for Honour, Tragedies; the Temple, Masque of the Middle Temple and Lincolns-Inn Masques; and Byron's Conspiracy, a History; in all seventeen.


ROBERT BARON.

Of this Robert Baron, we can recover nothing, save only those Dramatick Pieces which he wrote to the Stage, and which no doubt passed with good applause in those times. Of these are remembred his Don Quixot, or the Knight of the Ill-favoured Countenance, a Comedy; Gripus and Hegia, a Pastoral; Deorum Dona, Dick Scorner, Destruction of Jerusalem, the Marriage of Wit and Science, Masques and Interludes; and Myrza, a Tragedy.


LODOVIC CARLISLE.

To Mr. Robert Baron we may add Lodovic Carlisle, as much about the same time, and of like equal esteem; having written some not yet totally forgotten Plays, viz. Arviragus and Felicia, in two parts; the deserving Favorite, the Fool would be a Favorite, or the deserving Lover, Tragi-Comedies; Marius and Scylla, and Osmond the Great Turk, or the Noble Servant, Tragedies; all which shew him (though not a Master) yet a great Retainer to the Muses.


JOHN FORD.

To these we may add John Ford, a Dramatick Writer likewise of those times; very beneficial to the Red-Bull and Fortune-Play-houses; as may appear by these Plays which he wrote, viz. The Fancies, Ladies Tryal, Comedies; the broken Heart; Lovers Melancholy, Loves Sacrifice, 'tis pity she's a Whore, Tragedies; Perkin Warbeck, a History; and an Associate with Rowley and Deckar in a Tragi-Comedy called The Witch of Edmonton.


ANTHONY BREWER.

Anthony Brewer was also one who in his time contributed very much towards the English Stage by his Dramatick Writings; especially in that noted one of his, entituled, Lingua; which (as it is reported) being once acted in Cambridge, the late Usurper Cromwel had therein the Part of Tactus, the Substance of the Play being a Contention among the Senses for a Crown, which Lingua, who would have made up a sixth Sense, had laid for them to find; having this Inscription;

Which of the five that doth deserve it best,
Shall have his Temples with this Coronet blest.

This Mock-contention for a Crown, is said to swell his Ambition so high, that afterwards he contended for it in earnest, heading such a notable Rebellion, as had almost ruined three flourishing Kingdoms.

But to return to Mr. Brewer; Besides this Lingua, he wrote Loves Loadstone, and the Countrey-Girl, Comedies; the Love-sick King, and Landagartha, Tragi-Comedies, and Loves Dominion, a Pastoral.


HENRY GLAPTHORN.

Henry Glapthorn was one well deserving of the English, being one of the chiefest Dramatick Writers of this Age; deservingly commendable not so much for the quantity as the quality of his Plays; being his Hollander, Ladies Priviledge, and Wit in a Constable, Comedies; his Argalus and Parthenia, a Pastoral; and Alberus Wailestein, a Tragedy; in which Tragedy these Lines are much commended.

This Law the Heavens inviolably keep,
Their Justice well may slumber, but ne'er sleep,

JOHN DAVIS of Hereford.

In the writing of this Mans Life, we shall make use of Dr. Fuller in his England's Worthies, who saith, that he was the greatest Master of the Pen that England in his Age beheld; for,

1. Fast writing; so incredible his expedition.

2. Fair writing; some minutes consultation being required to decide whether his Lines were written or printed.

3. Close writing; a Mystery which to do well, few attain unto.

4. Various writing; Secretary, Roman, Court and Text.

The Poetical Fiction of Briareus the Giant, who had an hundred hands, found a Moral in him, who could so cunningly and copiously disguise his aforesaid elemental hands, that by mixing, he could make them appear an hundred; and if not so many sorts, so many degrees of writing. He had also many pretty excursions into Poetry, and could flourish Matters as well as Letters, with his Fancy as well as with his Pen. Take a taste of his Abilities in those Verses of his before Coriat's Crudities, being called the Odcombian Banquet, wherein the whole Club of Wits in that Age joyned together, to write Mock-commendatory Verses in Praise-dispraise of his Book.

If Art that oft the Learn'd hath stammer'd,
In one Iron Head-piece (yet no Hammer-Lead)
May (joyn'd with Nature) hit Fame on the Cocks-comb,
Then 'tis that Head-piece that is crown'd with Odcomb
For he, hard Head (and hard, sith like a Whet-stone)
It gives Wits edge, and draws them too like Jet-stone)
Is Caput Mundi for a world of School-tricks,
And is not ignorant in the learned'st—tricks
H'hath seen much more than much, I assure ye,
And will see New-Troy, Bethlem, and Old-Jury
Meanwhile (to give a taste of his first travel,
With streams of Rhetorick that get golden Gravel)
He tells how he to Venice once did wander;
From whence he came more witty than a Gander:
Whereby he makes relations of such wonders,
That Truth therein doth lighten, while Art thunders,
All Tongues fled to him that at Babel swerved,
Left they for want of warm months might have starved,
Where they do revel in such passing measure,
(Especially the Greek, wherein's his pleasure.)
That (jovially) so Greek he takes the guard of,
That he's the merriest Greek that ere was heard of;
For he as 'twere his Mothers twittle twattle,
(That's Mother-tongue) the Greek can prittle prattle.
Nay, of that Tongue he so hath got the Body,
That he sports with it at Ruffe, Gleek or Noddy, &c.

He died at London in the midst of the Reign of King James I. and lieth buried in St. Giles in the Fields.


Doctor JOHN DONNE.

This pleasant Poet, painful Preacher, and pious Person, was born in London, of wealthy Parents, who took such care of his Education, that at nine years of Age he was sent to study at Hart-Hall in Oxford, having besides the Latine and Greek, attained to a knowledge in the French Tongue. Here he fell into acquaintance with that great Master of Language and Art, Sir Henry Wootton; betwixt whom was such Friendship contracted, that nothing but Death could force the separation.

From Oxford he was transplanted to Cambridge, where he much improved his Study, and from thence placed at Lincolns Inn, when his Father dying, and leaving him three thousand pound in ready Money; he having a youthful desire to travel, went over with the Earl of Essex to Cales; where having seen the issue of this Expedition, he left them and went into Italy, and from thence into Spain, where by his industry he attained to a perfection in their Languages, and returned home with many useful Observations of those Countries, and their Laws and Government.

These his Abilities, upon his Return, preferred him to be Secretary to the Lord Elsmore, Keeper of the Great Seal; in whose Service he fell in Love with a young Gentlewoman who lived in that Family, Neece to the Lady Elsmore, and Daughter to Sir George Moor, Chancellor of the Garter, and Lieutenant of the Tower, who greatly opposed this Match; yet notwithstanding they were privately married: which so exasperated Sir George Moor, that he procured the Lord Elsmore to discharge him of his Secretariship, and never left prosecuting him till he had cast him into Prison, as also his two Friends who had married him, and gave him his Wife in Marriage.

But Mr.Donne had not been long there before he found means to get out, as also enlargement for his two Friends, and soon after through the mediation of some able persons, a reconciliation was made, and he receiving a Portion with his Wife, and having help of divers friends, they lived very comfortably together; And now was he frequently visited by men of greatest learning and judgment in this Kingdom; his company desired by the Nobility, and extreamly affected by the Gentry: His friendship was sought for of most foreign Embassadors, and his acquaintance entreated by many other strangers, whose learning or employment occasioned their stay in this Kingdom. In which state of life he composed his more brisk and youthful Poems; in which he was so happy, as if Nature with all her varieties had been made to exercise his great Wit and Fancy; Nor did he leave it off in his old age, as is witnessed by many of his divine Sonnets, and other high, holy and harmonious Composures, under his Effigies in these following Verses to his Printed Poems, one most ingeniously expresses.

This was for youth, strength, mirth, and wit, the time
Most count their golden age, but 'twas not thine:
Thine was thy later years, so much refin´d,
From youths dross, mirth, and wit, as thy pure mind,
Thought, like the Angels, nothing but the praise
Of thy Creator in those last best days.
Witness this Book, thy Emblem, which begins
With love, but ends with sighs and tears for sins.

At last, by King James's his command, or rather earnest persuasion, setting himself to the study of Theology, and into holy Orders, he was first made a Preacher of Lincoln's-Inn, afterwards advanc'd to be Dean of Pauls, and as of an eminent Poet he became a much more eminent Preacher, so he rather improved then relinquisht his Poetical fancy, only con converting it from humane and worldly to divine and heavenly Subjects; witness this Hymn made in the time of his sickness.

A Hymn to God the Father.
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, tho' it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run,
And do run still, tho' still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thrid, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thy self, that at my death thy son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And having done that, thou hast done,
I ask no more.

He died March 31. Anno 1631. and was buried in St. Paul's-Church, attended by many persons of Nobility and Eminency. After his burial, some mournful friends repaired, and as Alexander the great did to the Grave of the most famous Achilles, so they strewed his with curious and costly flowers. Nor was this (tho' not usual) all the honour done to his reverend ashes; for some person (unknown) to perpetuate his memory, sent to his Executors, Dr. King, and Dr. Momford, an 100 Marks towards the making of a Monument for him; which they faithfully performed, it being as lively a representation as in dead Marble could be made of him, tho' since by that merciless Fire in 1666. it be quite ruined.

I shall conclude all with these Verses, made to the Memory of this reverend person.

He that would write an Epitaph for thee,
And do it well, must first begin to be
Such as thou wert; for none can truly know
Thy worth, thy life, but he that lived so.
He must have wit to spare, and to hurl down,
Enough to keep the Gallants of the Town.
He must have learning plenty, both the Laws
Civil and Common, to judge any Cause;
Divinity great store above the rest,
None of the worst Edition, but the best:
He must have Language, Travel, all the Arts;
Judgment to use, or else he wants thy parts:
He must have friends the highest, able to do,
Such as Mæcenas and Augustus too;
He must have such a sickness, such a death,
Or else his vain descriptions come beneath:
He must unto all good men be a friend,
And (like to thee) must make a pious end.

Dr. RICHARD CORBET.

This reverend Doctor was born at Ewel in Surrey; a witty Poet in his youth, witness his Iter Boreale, and other facetious Poems, which were the effects of his juvenal fancy; He was also one of those celebrated Wits, which with Mr. Benjamin Johnson, Mr. Whitaker, Sir Joh. Harrington, Dr. Donne, Mr. Drayton, Mr. Davis, whom I mentioned before, and several others, wrote those mock commendatory Verses on Coriats Crudities; which, because the Book is scarce, and very few have seen it, I shall give you them as they are recited in the Book.

I do not wonder, Coriat, that thou hast
Over the Alps, through France, and Savoy, past,
Parcht on thy skin, and founder'd in thy feet,
Faint, thirsty, lousie, and didst live to see't.
Tho' these are Roman sufferings, and do show
What Creatures back thou hadst, could carry so;
All I admire is thy return, and how
Thy slender pasterns could thee bear, when now
Thy observations with thy brain ingendred,
Have stufft thy massy and volumnious head
With Mountains, Abbeys, Churches, Synagogues,
Preputial Offals, and Dutch Dialogues:
A burthen far more grievous than the weight
Of Wine or Sleep, more vexing then the freight
Of Fruit and Oysters, which lade many a pate,
And send folks crying home from Billings-gate.
No more shall man with Mortar on his head
Set forward towards Rome: no, Thou art bred
A terror to all Footmen, and to Porters,
And all Lay-men that will turn Jews Exhorters,
To fly their conquer'd trade: Proud England then
Embrace this luggage, which the man of men
Hath landed here, and change thy Welladay
Into some home-spun welcome Roundelay.
Send of this stuff thy Territories thorough,
To Ireland, Wales, and Scottish Edenborough;
There let this Book be read and understood,
Where is no theme, nor writer half so good.

He from a Student in, became Dean of Christchurch, then Bishop of Oxford, being of a courteous carriage, and no destructive nature to any who offended him, counting himself plentifully repaired with a Jest upon him. He afterwards was advanced Bishop of Norwich, where he died Anno 1635.


Mr. BENJAMIN JOHNSON.

This renowned Poet, whose Fame surmounts all the Elogies which the most learned Pen can bestow upon him, was born in the City of Westminster, his Mother living there in Harts-horn-lane, near Charing-cross, where she married a Bricklayer for her second Husband. He was first bred in a private School in St. Martin's-Church, then in Westminster-School, under the learned Mr. Cambden, as he himself intimates in one of his Epigrams.

Cambden, most reverend head, to whom I owe
All that I am in Arts, all that I know.
How nothings that, to whom my Country owes,
The great renown and name wherewith she goes.

Under this learned Schoolmaster he attained to a good degree of learning, and was statutably admitted in St. John's-Colledge in Cambridge, (as many years after incorporated a honorary Member of Christ-Church in Oxford) here he staid but some small time, for want of maintainance; for if there be no Oyl in the Lamp, it will soon be extinguish'd: And now, as if he had quite laid aside all thoughts of the University, he betook himself to the Trade of his Father-in-law; And let not any be offended herewith, since it is more commendable to work in a lawful Calling, then having one not to use it. He was one who helped in the building of the new Structure of Lincolns-Inn, where, having a Trowel in his hand, he had a Book in his pocket, that as his work went forward, so his study went not backward.

But such rare Parts as he had could be no more hid, than the Sun in a serene day, some Gentlemen pitying such rare Endowments should be buried under the rubbish of so mean a Calling, did by their bounty manumise him freely to follow his own ingenious inclinations. Indeed his Parts were not so ready to run of themselves, as able to answer the spur; so that it may be truly said of him, that he had an elaborate wit wrought out by his own industry; yet were his Repartees for the most part very quick and smart, and which favour'd much of ingenuity, of which I shall give you two instances.

He having been drinking in an upper room, at the Feathers-Tavern in Cheap side, as he was coming down stairs, his foot slipping, he caught a fall, and tumbling against a door, beat it open into a room where some Gentlemen were drinking Canary; recovering his feet, he said, Gentlemen, since I am so luckily fallen into your company, I will drink with you before I go.

He used very much to frequent the Half-Moon-Tavern in Aldersgate-street, through which was a common Thorough fare; he coming late that way, one night, was denied passage, whereupon going through the Sun-Tavern a little after, he said,

Since that the Moon was so unkind to make me go about,
The Sun hence forth shall take my Coin, the Moon shall go without.

His constant humour was to sit silent in learned Company, and suck in (besides Wine) their several Humours into his observation; what was Ore in others, he was able to refine unto himself.

He was one, and the chief of them, in ushering forth the Book of Coriats Crudities, writing not only a Character of the Author, an explanation of his Frontispiece, but also an Acrostick upon his Name, which for the sutableness of it, (tho' we have written something of others mock Verses) we shall here insert it.

Try and trust Roger, was the word, but now
Honest Tom Tell-troth puts down Roger, How?
Of travel he discourseth so at large,
Marry he sets it out at his own charge;
And therein (which is worth his valour, too)
Shews he dare more than Paul's Church-yard durst do.
Come forth thou bonny bouncing Book then, daughter
Of Tom of Odcombe, that odd jovial Author,
Rather his son I should have call'd thee, why?
Yes thou wert born out of his travelling thigh
As well as from his brains, and claim'st thereby
To be his Bacchus as his Pallas: he
Ever his Thighs Male then and his Brains She.

He was paramount in the Dramatick part of Poetry, and taught the Stage an exact conformity to the Laws of Comedians, being accounted the most learned, judicious, and correct of them all, and the more to be admired for being so, for that neither the height of natural parts, for he was no Shakespear, nor the cost of extraordinary education, but his own proper industry, and addiction to Books, advanced him to this perfection. He wrote fifty Plays in all, whereof fifteen Comedies, three Tragedies, the rest Masques and Entertainments. His Comedies were, The Alchimist, Bartholomew Fair, Cynthia's Revels, Caseis alter'd, The Devil is an Ass, Every Man in his humour, every Man out of his humour, The Fox, Magnetick Lady, New Inn, Poetaster, Staple of News, Sad Shepherd, Silent Woman, and A Tale of a Tub. His Tragedies were, Cateline's Conspiracy, Mortimer's Fall, and Seianus. His Masques and Entertainments, too long here to write, were thirty and two, besides a Comedy of East-ward, hoe? in which he was partner with Chapman.

These his Plays were above the vulgar capacity, (which are onely tickled with down-right obscenity) and took not so well at the first stroke, as at the rebound, when beheld the second time, yea, they will endure reading, and that with due commendation, so long as either ingenuity or learning are fashionable in our Nation. And although all his Plays may endure the test, yet in three of his Comedies, namely, The Fox, Alchymist, and Silent Woman, he may be compared in the judgment of the learned men, for decorum, language and well-humouring parts, as well with the chief of the ancient Greek and Latine Comedians, as the prime of modern Italians, who have been judged the best of Europe for a happy vein in Comedies; nor is his Bartholomew Fair much short of them. As for his other Comedies, Staple of News, Devil's an Ass, and the rest, if they be not so sprightful and vigorous as his first pieces, all that are old will, and all that desire to be old, should excuse him therein; and therefore let the Name of Ben Johnson sheild them against whoever shall think fit to be severe in censure against them. Truth is, his Tragedies, Seianus and Cateline seem to have in them more of an artificial and inflate, than of a pathetical and naturally Tragick height; yet do they every one of them far excel any of the English ones that were writ before him; so that he may be truly said to be the first reformer of the English Stage, as he himself more truly than modestly writes in his commendatory Verses of his Servants Richard Broom's Comedy of the Northern Lass.

Which you have justly gained from the Stage,
By observation of those Comick Laws,
Which I, your Master, first did teach the Age.

In the rest of his Poetry, (for he is not wholly Dramatick) as his Underwoods, Epigrams, &c. he is sometimes bold and strenuous, sometimes Magisterial, sometimes lepid and full enough of conceit, and sometimes a man as other men are.

It seems the issue of his brain was more lively and lasting than the issue of his body, having several Children, yet none living to survive him; This he bestowed as part of an Epitaph on his eldest Son, dying an Infant.

Rest in soft peace, and ask'd, say, Here doth lye
Ben Johnson his best piece of Poetry.

But tho' the immortal Memory still lives of him in his learned Works, yet his Body, subject to mortality, left this life, Anno 1638. and was buried about the Belfrey in the Abbey-Church at Westminster, having only upon a Pavement over his Grave, this written:

O Rare Ben Johnson.

Yet were not the Poets then so dull and dry, but that many expressed their affection to his Memory in Elegies and Epitaphs; amongst which this following may not be esteemed the worst.

The Muses fairest Light in no dark time,
The Wonder of a learned Age; the line
That none can pass: the most proportion'd Wit
To Nature; the best Judge of what was fit:
The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest Pen:
The Voyce most eccho'd by consenting men;
The Soul which answer'd best to all well said
By others; and which most requital made:
Tun'd to the highest Key of ancient Rome;
Returning all her Musick with her own;
In whom with Nature, Study claim'd a part,
And yet who to himself ow'd all his Art;
Here lies Ben Johnson, every Age will look
With sorrow here, with Wonder on his Book.

FRANCIS BEAUMONT and JOHN FLETCHER.

These two joyned together, made one of the happy Triumvirate (the other two being Johnson and Shakespear) of the chief Dramatick Poets of our Nation, in the last foregoing Age; among whom there might be said to be a symmetry of perfection, while each excelled in his peculiar way: Ben Johnson in his elaborate pains and knowledge of Authors, Shakespear in his pure vein of wit, and natural Poetick height; Fletcher in a Courtly Elegance and Gentile Familiarity of Style, and withal a Wit and Invention so overflowing, that the luxuriant Branches thereof were frequently thought convenient to be lopt off by Mr. Beaumont; which two joyned together, like Castor and Pollux, (most happy when in conjunction) raised the English to equal the Athenian and Roman Theaters; Beaumont bringing the Ballast of Judgment, Fletcher the Sail of Phantasie, both compounding a Poet to admiration.

These two admirable Wits wrote in all two and fifty Plays, whereof three and forty were Comedies; namely, Beggars Bush, Custom of the Country, Captain Coxcomb, Chances, Cupid's Revenge, Double Marriage, Elder Brother, Four Plays in one, Fair Maid of the Inn, Honest man's Fortune, Humorous Lieutenant, Island Princess, King and no King, Knight of the burning Pestle, Knight of Malta, Little French Lawyer, Loyal Subject, Laws of Candy, Lovers Progress, Loves Cure, Loves Pilgrimage, Mad Lover, Maid in the Mill, Monsieur Thomas, Nice Valour, Night-Walker, Prophetess, Pilgrim, Philaster, Queen of Corinth, Rule a Wife and have a Wife, Spanish Curate, Sea-Voyage, Scornful Lady, Womans Prize, Women pleased, Wife for a Month, Wit at several weapons, and a Winters Tale. Also six Tragedies; Bonduca, the Bloody Brother, False One, the Maids Tragedy, Thiery and Theodoret, Valentinian, and Two Noble Kinsmen, a Tragi-Comedy, Fair Shepherdess, a Pastoral; and a Masque of Grays-Inn Gentlemen.

It is reported of them, that meeting once in a Tavern, to contrive the rude Draught of a Tragedy, Fletcher undertook to kill the King therein, whose Words being over-heard by a Listner (though his Loyalty not to be blamed herein) he was accused of High Treason, till the Mistake soon appearing, that the Plot was only against a Dramatick and Scenical King, all wound off in Merriment.

Yet were not these two Poets so conjoyned, but that each of them did several Pieces by themselves, Mr. Beaumont, besides other Works, wrote a Poem, entituled, Salmacis and Hermaphroditus, a Fable taken out of Ovid's Metamorphosis; and Mr. Fletcher surviving Mr. Beamont, wrote good Comedies of himself; so that it could not be laid to his Charge what Ajax doth to Ulysses;